


Summer Berry

by 2momsmakearight



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, challenge writing, post episode, wetwired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2momsmakearight/pseuds/2momsmakearight
Summary: Summary: Missing scene for Wetwired. “He wonders if it’s possible to be jealous of a tube of lipstick.”Notes: one-shot, no beta. Not my usual style and I’m unsure of how I feel about it. Went in a completely different direction than I had intended.





	

“Is she okay?” one of the Gunmen asks, but Mulder can’t determine which one as his heartbeat drums loudly in his ears.

“No…they uh…they need me to come and identify the body.”

He can’t feel his legs as he descends the steps of the gunmen’s lair, but he knows he’s moving because the bottom of his shoes click against the dirt-tattooed cement steps as he makes his way out to his car. He slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, peeling away from the curb and nearly taking out another sedan in the process, possibly even killing someone. Just add it to his tab. Another life. Another victim caught cruelly in the webbed trap of Fox Mulder.

When he tastes the bitter iron of blood he realizes that he’s been biting his lip ever since he left the Gunmen. He reaches across the console to the glove compartment, hoping to find something to keep his teeth busy, keep his jaw from permanently locking into place as he grinds his molars with each red light that stands between him and identifying the dead body of his partner.

He rifles through the cluttered mess: a map, napkins, assorted ketchup and hot sauce packets, a condom packet (from the Regan administration no doubt), lipstick, sunflower seeds…

Lipstick.

Tossing the seeds to the passenger seat, he fingers the textured metal of the silver cosmetics case, feeling his stomach churn with each twist of the tube between his fingers. She’d left it there by accident, and it had been a fluke he even found it. Well, he didn’t find it, the guy at the car wash did. Fallen out of her purse and rolled under the seat, most likely.

“Su esposa? Your wife’s?” the attendant had asked, and Mulder chuckled with a shake of his head in the negative.

“No. Not my wife,” he’d said, sounding far too whimsical for his own liking, but the older man had simply winked at him, handing him the lipstick.

“Special lady then,” he’d said, his brown eyes twinkling with wisdom only age could bring.

“Very,” had been his reply, surprising even him at his outright honesty.

He twists the lid from the case, watching the color emerge from inside. How many times has he watched her apply it, pretending to ignore the feminine rituals she’d performed riding shotgun next to him for the last three years? She even had a system: pencil the edges, press lips together, twist lipstick tube, rotate tube till desired tip is facing appropriate direction, one small swipe down the middle, left swipe, right swipe, long swipe along button lip, press together, purse, eye critically, repeat and reapply where necessary…

In his mind, her movements are slow and deliberate. Her tongue darts out and wets her bare lips before the color is applied, and her teeth graze the inside of her bottom lip as she examines her work in the yellow light of the small mirror. How many times has this tube passed across her lips? How many times has her tongue tasted the waxy perfume? His cock stirs in his pants, and he wonders if it’s possible to be jealous of a tube of lipstick.

The highway is remarkably clear of traffic. Not that a few cars would stop him from his distracted reverie. So what if he killed himself on the way to the county morgue? Maybe they’d put him in a drawer next to Scully. It’s probably a good thing he’s holding the lipstick, he imagines – it’s keeping his hands busy.

If his hands are busy, there’s less of a likelihood of him using his hands for other purposes like erratic steering, shaving while driving, flipping off the minivan going 50 in a 65 zone…suicide.

He blames it on curiosity when he swipes his thumb across the creamy tip of the lipstick, staining his thumb with the deep raspberry hue. It’s softer then he imagined it would be, gliding effortlessly along the warm pad of his thumb. Does it feel like this when she wears it, he wonders? Are her lips as smooth, as ripe as the Summer Berry namesake it bears?

On impulse, he brings his thumb to his mouth, letting it linger against his bottom lip.

Will her lips be the same Summer Berry color he’s grown accustomed to seeing when he identifies her body? Or will her lips be the mottled blue of death, forever frozen in a shape of horror?

Tears blur his vision as he drives down the highway, thumb pressed against lips. What a fucking vision he must be to the other drivers, some crying asshole with his thumb in his mouth.

He’d be lying if he said he’s never thought about kissing her. Maleness aside, Dana Scully has a mouth meant to be kissed, if not in its delicious fullness, then to shut her up at the very least, and it’s only when he sees the County building ahead does he realize that this is the closest he’ll ever come to kissing her– nothing more than a lipstick stain on his finger. His reflection mocks him from the shiny silver tube in his hand.

You selfish bastard. This is all your fault.


End file.
